Sing No Sad Songs
by vjs2259
Summary: First chapter Sheridan's viewpoint, set on B5 during the Minbari Civil War. Second chapter Delenn's viewpoint, S4 thru Sleeping in Light. Inspired by Christina Rosetti's poem 'When I am Dead.' Written for Valentine's Day 2013.
1. If Thou Wilt, Remember

**If Thou Wilt, Remember**

_When I am dead, my dearest, _

_Sing no sad songs for me; _

_Plant thou no roses at my head, _

_Nor shady cypress tree: _

_Be the green grass above me _

_With showers and dewdrops wet; _

_And if thou wilt, remember, _

_And if thou wilt, forget. _

When I am Dead, My Dearest-Christina Rossetti

* * *

He'd taken to stopping by her quarters in the evening after his shift was over. C&C was under orders to let him know the instant word came in from Minbar; any word at all, at any time, day or night. The Rangers under his command weren't able to get in close enough to find out what was going on, and those that were stationed on the planet surface weren't sending any intel out. There was nothing John could do, and so he patrolled her space, checking on things for her, and looking for something he couldn't find.

Delenn had given him the passcode to her apartments a good while ago. He entered it on the touchpad outside the door, fingers lingering on the numbers, knowing her fingers had touched the same keys not so long ago. Once inside, he stared at the monitor, willing the 'incoming message' light to flash green. But it stayed stubbornly unlit. The rooms had the aura of abandonment, reflecting the emptiness of any place where she wasn't.

"Lights, low," he called, trying to brighten the atmosphere somewhat. Running his hand over the counter, he could feel the grit of the accumulating dust. Where did dust come from in an enclosed space station anyway? Next time he'd bring a pocket-vac and clean up a bit. Whoever looked after this place was falling down on the job. He supposed if Lennier was here he would have handled it, but Delenn's attache was with her on Minbar. Lucky devil.

Moving into the living room, John sat down heavily on the couch and leaned forward, moving one of the off-white candles from the center of the low round table to one side, in a line with two others. Cocking his head he moved it back to the center. It looked better where she'd put it. After a moment's thought, he picked up a nearby silver firelighter and lit the ivory column. The scent rising from the creamy pillar filled the air. Shan'fal wasn't far away in time or in his memory, and he felt the familiar ache build as he recalled that night of careful ritual, a mix of frustration and fulfillment.

Restless and anxious to dissipate the anxiety that narrowed his throat and sped up his heartbeat, he attempted a simple meditation exercise she'd taught him. Slipping off his shoes, he crossed his legs on the couch cushions, tucking his feet under his knees, not willing to get down on the hard floor as she'd originally required. "Open your mind and open your heart," she had said, and he had, at her command. He could feel the warmth of the candle, small as it was, and see the light dancing across his closed eyelids. His hands lay open on his knees, as if in petition.

It didn't help. The only thing that kept him from going mad these days was piling into his own work, head-first and hard. And there was plenty of it waiting back in his own quarters. He pulled on his shoes and laced them up, then stood and examined the closed glass doors that led to her bedchamber. He hadn't been in there since that memorable night of bliss and discomfort. The watchers had chanted and prayed as he and Delenn revealed their inner desires to one another. Sliding open the doors, he stepped into the darkness. A thin thread of light from the living area dimly illuminated the tilted bed, the chest along one wall, and the closed door to the adjoining bath.

He smoothed the fitted cover on the blasted bed, tilted at an angle no human could stick to, and almost tripped as his feet became entangled in a pile of soft stuff on the floor. "Lights," he commanded without thinking, and reached down to pluck up the offending garment. It was a silken slip, a soft shimmer of white like moonlight left puddled on the floor. John turned it over and over in his hands, running his thumbs across the thin line of lace that lined the bodice, fingering the long seam that ran down the back. It wasn't like her to leave clothes lying around, but then she'd been in a hurry when she'd left. As he smoothed the sleek material, he realized he'd done this before, the memory lingered in his hands. Suddenly he buried his face in the cloth, breathing in the subtle remnants of her perfume.

God, he wished she was here, and he was holding her close against him. He would run his hands along the curve of her waist, trace the outline of her spine up to the neck, slowly move the thin strap off one shoulder, then the other... Hot tears clogged the back of his throat and he clutched the material in his clenched fists. If she didn't make it back, he would take this, keep it in a box in the back of his closet. It would be something of hers to have and to remember. No one would miss it. No one would know.

The last time that kind of bad news had come, it had initially been broken by his superiors on Earth, over a comlink as he cruised the stars light-years away. He'd taken the blow like a soldier and born his grief alone. The final confirmation had come from a pair of blank-faced IPX suits, arriving in dock when he did, mouthing their unfelt sympathies like a murder of croaking ravens. This time, if the worst happened, he would hear it from his crew or his Rangers. They would respect his privacy, but he knew they would mourn with him, which was somehow a comfort. Delenn affected people that way.

Straightening up, John carefully laid the silken shift down on the bed, adjusting it so no wrinkle marred its folds. For now it would stay, an empty vessel awaiting her return. He tugged his jacket back into regulation condition, and rubbed his hand across his face and slightly wet eyes. Time to go. He walked back through the rooms, calling out for the lights to darken as he went, pausing only in the living room to blow out the candle flame that remained burning steadily, unmoved by his inner turmoil. That was what meditation taught you, the ability to remain steady as the world around you burned. He'd learned that lesson long ago, the hard way. Work, and focus, and moving forward was what got you through times of trouble. Patience, he told himself as the door closed behind him. There was always hope, and hope would see him through.


	2. If Thou Wilt, Forget

**If Thou Wilt, Forget**

The first night she didn't even try to sleep. John had accompanied her back to her quarters and stayed with her a while, a quiet wall of comfort and support, but eventually he'd left. She'd remained awake, staring at the guttering candles, twisting the silver circle he'd placed on her finger around, and around, and around, waiting for the pain to stop.

Eventually it faded. Eventually she forgot. For minutes, then hours, then days at a time, her hyper-natural awareness of his breathing would fade. She could smile, and laugh, and touch him without the impulse to clutch and hold, to ground him in life. The pain subsided into a background ache, the occasional piercing sadness sufficient to keep her mindful and aware of the passage of time.

Months and years passed, and it was easy, so easy to forget. Years filled with joy and yes, more pain, but none of that mattered because they were together. History was woven tight between them; their lives were interlocked. Delenn no longer thought of the inevitable future without him, because she could no longer imagine it.

After a few years she instituted a ritual of remembrance on the anniversary of her rebirth. All her emotions she crowded into that one day. The morning was spent in prayer and meditation on acceptance. The afternoon was spent out of doors, watching anything in flight; birds, ships, the awkward paper kites John made for David which were often torn to pieces in the wild winds that blew through the city parks. Delenn didn't mind the wind, although it tore at her upturned hair, long tresses woven into a soft knot at the back of her neck. It made her feel alive, as alive as John's deep laughter and their son's echoes of glee. "You might as well try to fly" had been the words that brought her back from the abyss, and she tried. She tried to fly.

After ten years she started performing the ritual at the turn of each season. It was harder to forget now, as David turned from child to rebellious youth. John had aged and mellowed, but some of his old spark was reborn in his son. They quarreled occasionally and each time she wanted to intervene and caution them against wasting their precious time together. David was still too young to be told of his father's fate, and wouldn't have understood her remonstrances. Besides, John insisted this was how young people broke away from their elders on Earth. It was part of growing up. If the truth be told, this was how it happened everywhere, even on conservative Minbar.

It was after they returned from Centauri Prime that Delenn realized how deeply she feared and resented the looming parting. David had been rescued and sent on ahead, before they were captured. They had escaped only with the contrivance of the old Emperor. The return journey was full of silent grief and guilt. John had been so gentle with her, accepting and understanding her willingness to let the past burn to keep him alive. Spending time with her husband's younger self only served to accentuate her acute sense of impending loss. She couldn't forget now, even if she tried.

When David left for his training mission with the Rangers, and the end was truly approaching, Delenn began keeping close watch on her husband, worrying over every slip of memory or physical frailty. There weren't many, but his vigor was flagging, and he was withdrawing even from his day to day supervision of the Ranger training programs. He began to complain of nightmares, and she would wake at times and silently watch him sleep, trying to calm his dreams with her touch.

Finally the day came when he asked her to send for the others. That day he wanted to watch the sun rise and she sat next to him, feeling his solid warmth, and letting the color and brilliant light burn the memory into her. Soon after that he quietly left their home, without fuss or further good-byes, except to her. No one else was awake to see.

_The first night she didn't even try to sleep. John was gone, her comfort and her support no longer there. She remained awake for a long while, curled around the empty space in their bed, waiting for the pain to stop._

_Eventually it faded. But she never forgot. For minutes, then hours, then days at a time, she could remember him without pain. She could smile, and laugh, and wait for the day when she could see him again. The pain subsided into a background ache, the occasional piercing sadness sufficient to keep her mindful and aware of the passage of time. The ritual of remembrance she performed every day, with a calm serenity that surprised even her. Months and years passed, and it was easy, so easy to remember. The years were filled with joy and yes, more pain, but none of that mattered because eventually they would be together again. _

"As for Delenn...every morning, for as long as she lived, Delenn got up before dawn...and watched the sun come up."


End file.
